


Crocus

by Sabulana



Series: The Language of Flowers [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Humour, M/M, Mild Angst, Oral Sex, The Morning After The Night Before, idiots in love being cute together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulana/pseuds/Sabulana
Summary: Directly follows on from Floriography.Oswald and Jim spend the day together.





	Crocus

**Author's Note:**

> Me after the season 3 finale: I need something cute and fluffy after that.... let's write a short follow-up to Floriography while I work on a longer, more serious sequel.  
> Also me: *cranks out 10k words for fluff and nonsense and smut*
> 
> I have no regrets. 
> 
> Crocus meaning: Pleasure of hope, Cheerfulness, Heavenly bliss, Youthful gladness, Glee(mirth), Greek Gods considered it the epitome of things charming and sweet, Associated with hallucination and ecstasy due to it's heady scent, Aphrodisiac
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [thekeyholder](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder)

The new day dawned, warm and sunny after the rain the night before. Oswald shifted restlessly in bed, not wishing to wake up. He’d been having a wonderful dream and didn’t want to rejoin the waking world just yet. But his rolling around landed him in a strip of sunlight. Didn’t he shut the curtains that night?

Then he blinked open his eyes and remembered that he wasn’t in his own bed. He was in Jim’s.

There was no sign of Jim, though. When Oswald stretched out, he found Jim’s side of the bed was still warm, so he hadn't been gone long.

Oswald smiled to himself, recalling the events of the night before. He'd arrived in pouring rain, not sure what to expect, but knowing that even a fake relationship with Jim was better than none at all. He'd felt awful for the last couple of weeks, knowing that it was ending, and breaking things off had hurt worst of all. He remembered the hurt, confused look on Jim’s face when he left him at the restaurant with crystal clear clarity. In truth, he didn't think Jim would agree to anything after that.

Oswald definitely hadn't expected that Jim was in love with him. He would almost think it was a dream, except for the fact that he was naked in Jim’s bed.

He rolled over again, remembering the weight of Jim on top of him, the warmth as he was held close. Jim had held him like he was precious.

Perhaps he could persuade Jim to go again before he had to go home.

As he was contemplating how to go about seducing Jim, Oswald spied a book on the nightstand. Curious about what Jim considered bedtime reading, Oswald reached for it.

‘Floriography: The Language of Flowers’ read Oswald. There were bookmarks and scraps of paper sticking out from between the pages. He sat up and began flicking through it, careful not to lose any of the bookmarks.

‘Camellia: A good luck gift for a man, Gratitude, Perfection, Perfected loveliness, Contentment, Steadfastness, Transience of life, Elegantly delicate, You are the flame in my heart (Blue), Longing for you - I long for your touch (Pink), Excellence (Red), You're adorable (White).’

The first flower Jim had given Oswald was a white camellia.

‘You're adorable.’ Had Jim been flirting, even back then?

Oswald had never said, but at the end of the day, he had carefully pressed it between the pages of a heavy book, intending to preserve it. He hadn't even been sure why at the time, simply wanting to keep a gift from a new friend. It had been the start of a tradition, of sorts. Oswald had done the same with every flower Jim had given him.

Oswald turned to another bookmark. Some parts were highlighted, or marked with Oswald’s name and a date.

Oh. Jim had been planning every flower, Oswald realised, declaring his love and affection with every gift. All because he hadn’t been able to come out and actually say anything about his feelings. Oswald’s chest felt like it was about to burst with affection for this silly man. If he’d had even an inkling of what Jim had truly meant by the flowers, he would have certainly fallen head over heels in love with him regardless of any lingering feeling for Ed.

A noise down the hall had Oswald scrambling to put the book back just as he'd found it and hide under the covers, out of embarrassment at being caught snooping. He had the covers pulled up to his face when Jim returned, peeking over the top of the blankets. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not that Jim was wearing underwear now.

“Good morning,” Jim said cheerfully. He crossed over to the bed and bent to give Oswald a soft kiss. His breath was minty, and Oswald inwardly cringed at what his own morning breath must be like. Jim didn't seem to care, though.

“Good morning,” Oswald replied, feeling ridiculously shy. It was stupid, given all he'd shared with Jim, all they'd done together, but this was the first time he had woken up in someone else's bed after a night of passion. He had no frame of reference for what was expected of him.

“I was thinking of breakfast. Would you prefer pancakes or cereal? Or toast?” Jim asked.

“Pancakes, I think,” Oswald replied.

“Pancakes it is,” Jim replied. He kissed Oswald on the forehead. “Feel free to use the bathroom, if you want. I put a spare toothbrush by the sink for you.”

“Thank you.” Perhaps Jim had noticed the morning breath after all. Oswald sat up and made to throw back the blankets, but hesitated. In the darkness, caught up in the tender mood, the scars on his leg and the twisted bones hadn't seemed important, not with the way Jim had been kissing him. But in the light of day, Oswald wouldn't be able to hide the ugliness. “Um…”

“Here.” Jim got up to find the sweatpants and t-shirt Oswald had borrowed the night before. He handed them over with a gentle smile. “I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready,” he said. He kissed Oswald again, sweet and gentle, and then left Oswald to get dressed.

Oswald felt another rush of love for Jim. He was ridiculous, incapable of talking about his feelings until pushed to his limit, stubborn, and far too sweet and kind to Oswald than he deserved.

Carefully, mindful of the way his leg ached each morning, Oswald slid out of bed and dressed. There was another twinge of discomfort that he wasn't used to, a physical reminder of his activities with Jim the night before, but it wasn't unbearable. He limped the short distance to the bathroom to freshen up, making use of the toothbrush Jim had left for him. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning. Without his usual products, he couldn't style it and now it stood up in odd tufts in some places and was completely flat in others. What must Jim think of him? Oswald did his best to make himself look tidy, then made his way to the kitchen.

Jim had donned an apron, but hadn't bothered with any other clothes. It was a good look for him, Oswald decided as he slid into a chair at the kitchen table. He watched shamelessly as Jim finished mixing the pancake batter and poured it into the pan. In the corner, the coffee machine hummed. Oswald knew the kind of swill Jim thought passed for coffee and didn't have high hopes for whatever was coming out of the machine.

“Don't give my coffee machine that look,” Jim said.

Oswald blushed at being caught glaring at it.

“You don't have to drink it anyway,” Jim continued. “I have tea.”

Oswald paused. “I thought you didn't like tea?” he said after a moment. He was sure of that. They'd had a conversation in the museum cafe about it.

To his utter delight, Jim blushed red, and turned away with a sheepish look. “It was a spur of the moment thing,” he admitted. “After you told me what tea you prefer… I… well, I bought some. So.” He opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of Oswald’s favourite tea.

“Did you try it?” Oswald asked, inexplicably touched by the whole thing. Jim was going to turn him into an incoherent emotional mess by the end of breakfast at this rate, just full of love and happiness and unable to speak because of it.

“Yeah. It's… it's good.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to look Oswald in the eyes. “It reminds me of you.”

Oswald knew he was sporting a ridiculous smile, but couldn't bring himself to care. “I love you,” he said earnestly. “I really, really do.”

Jim finally looked back at him, grinning helplessly. “I love you too.”

“Don't forget the pancakes,” Oswald said.

Jim pulled a face and dropped the tea on the table. He turned back to the pan, busying himself with making sure their breakfast wasn't burning.

While his back was turned, Oswald leaned his elbows on the table and watched the play of muscles across Jim’s back as he moved. He hastily turned his gaze elsewhere when Jim finally turned around with two plates of pancakes.

“Here you go.” Jim set the plates down on the table, then turned to the fridge to fetch strawberries and blueberries, along with some syrup from the cupboard. He set them all out on the table. “Help yourself.”

“You know, I expected more plants for some reason,” Oswald said as they began eating. So far, he'd only seen three. There was a cactus in the living room, beside a picture of Jim, Selina and Ivy outside Poison Ivy, an orchid on the kitchen windowsill and another plant in the middle of the kitchen table.

“I tried,” Jim said. “But I lack Ivy’s green thumb. I kill most plants left in my care. Ivy gave me the cactus in the living room because even I couldn't possibly kill a cactus.”

“What about these?” Oswald asked, pointing at the plant on the table and the orchid.

“Well, the orchid was a present from Selina, a test to see if I've improved my plant care skills since the first disastrous attempts, and since it still has flowers, I think I have. This is my big success story, though,” Jim added, pointing at the flower on the table. “It's the only thing I managed to grow from a seed. It's a mimosa.”

“I thought a mimosa was a cocktail,” Oswald said. “It's made from champagne and orange juice.” He had run a bar for a while, after all. He'd picked up more than a little knowledge of various alcoholic beverages.

“Well, it's a plant too, meaning sensitivity and secret love,” Jim replied.

Oswald grinned. “Sensitivity?”

“Touch the leaves,” Jim said, smirking.

What? Oswald hesitated in confusion, but at Jim’s silent urging, reached out and gently tapped the nearest leaves. They snapped closed all along the stem, one pair after another in sequence.

“Oh!”

“It's also known as the ‘sensitive plant’ because the leaves react to touch like that,” Jim said. “They'll open up again in a couple of minutes.”

“That's kind of amazing,” Oswald said. Fascinated, he tapped another stem of leaves, watching them fold up to protect themselves.“And it's the only plant you've managed to grow yourself?”

“And haven't killed yet,” Jim said. “Ivy says it's some kind of miracle. A few other plants I tried to grow got as far as being seedlings, but I would forget to water them, or over-water them and they would die.”

“That's kind of embarrassing for a florist, isn't it?” Oswald asked, giggling.

“Why do you think I'm usually in the shop?” Jim asked dryly. “I can't kill anything if all I do is take care of the selling part of the business.”

“At least you never became a gardener,” Oswald replied.

In the living room, Oswald’s phone began ringing.

“Ed, probably,” Oswald said. “I'll be right back.”

He'd left his phone on the coffee table the night before, and Jim hadn't moved it. As Oswald had suspected, the caller ID read ‘Ed’.

“Good morning, Ed!” he greeted cheerfully.

“You're in a good mood,” Edward noted.

“Why would I not be?” Oswald asked. “Everything is wonderful. Unless it isn't? Is there something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Edward replied hurriedly. “I was just checking in, wondering when we might expect you home.”  

“That depends,” Oswald said thoughtfully. “Do I have anything truly pressing on Monday to take care of?”

“Monday, Oswald?” Ed sounded uncertain, thrown off a little.

Oswald grinned, unable to keep it in anymore. “We worked things out last night,” he said. “So I thought maybe I wouldn’t hurry home today.” There was a small sound behind him, and Oswald turned to see Jim hovering in the doorway curiously. “Unless Jim is in a hurry to be rid of me?” he added.

“I’m in no hurry to get rid of you,” Jim said. “I thought I might have to tempt you into staying longer, actually.”

“And how were you going to do that?” Oswald asked, disregarding the fact that he was still on the phone to Edward, who could probably hear every word.

Jim said nothing, but reached behind him to undo the apron strings and took it off. He tossed the apron onto a nearby chair and slipped a finger teasingly into the waistband of his underwear.

Oswald’s mouth was suddenly dry, and it took him a moment to realise Edward was trying to get his attention.

“Oswald? Oswald, are you still there?”

“Oh, I-Uh, yes. I’ll call you back later,” Oswald said. “I have to go.” He hung up without waiting for Edward’s reply and dropped his phone back onto the coffee table.

“You’re convinced, then?” Jim asked, grinning because he already knew the answer.

“Well, it was touch and go for a moment there, but I thought it would be wrong of me to deprive you of my presence,” Oswald replied, putting on possibly the worst show of nonchalance he’d ever attempted.

Anything else he might have said was cut off when Jim crossed the room to kiss him breathless. It was just as good as the first time, when they were stood outside his mansion, except this time Oswald knew Jim wasn't putting on an act to convince any onlookers. Actually, taking that into account, Oswald decided that this kiss was much better.

And, of course, there was also the fact that Jim was still only in his underwear. Without any fabric to hold on to, Oswald’s hands fluttered uncertainly, until Jim grasped his wrists and guided them to his waist without breaking the kiss.

“What was that for?” Oswald asked when they parted.

“Because I can,” Jim replied. He rested his forehead against Oswald’s. “It just struck me suddenly that I don't have to hold back now.”

“After what we did last night?” Oswald asked, a little incredulously.

Jim blushed, and it was wonderful to observe up close. “I know, but I still can't quite believe it.” He smiled, looking more than a little smitten and Oswald wondered how he had managed to miss it before.

“Well, I'll just have to make sure you believe it before I have to leave later,” Oswald said.

“Then I suggest you get started,” Jim said.

Which was all well and good for him to say, but Oswald had no idea where to start. Kissing was fine, and he wouldn’t say no to sex, but he was painfully aware of his inexperience when it came to romantic relationships.

“We don't have to do anything,” Jim said, as if sensing his hesitation.

Oswald shook his head. “No, I want to-to do things. I just don't have a clue where to start.” He blushed, cursing his younger self’s lack of interest. “I've never done this before.”

“Well, we worked out together well enough when we thought we were pretending to date,” Jim said. “Now we just move some of that to our private time together and see how things go. I know this is new, so we'll go at your pace. If I push for something you're not ready for, you tell me, and if there's something you want to try, you tell me.”

Oswald nodded, grateful for Jim’s understanding. “Perhaps if we take things slowly for now?” he suggested.

“A good idea,” Jim said. “Perhaps in that case, I should get dressed.”

Oswald glanced down at Jim’s naked torso, then back up at his face. “No rush,” he said, trying to play it cool.

Judging by Jim’s smirk, he failed miserably, but Jim seemed to enjoy the attention. They ended up sprawled on Jim’s sofa, exploring each other. Jim lay over Oswald with his hands under Oswald’s t-shirt, but made no attempt to remove it. Instead, he sucked bruising marks onto Oswald’s neck and collar bones where they peeked out the top of the shirt.

Oswald had started off a little shy of touching Jim, but soon gained confidence when Jim failed to pull away at all. His hands roamed over Jim, starting from his neck and shoulders and working his way down.

When Oswald reached Jim’s sides, he remembered the way Jim had jerked last night when Oswald had inadvertently tickled him. He smirked and ran his hands lightly over Jim’s skin, seeking out the most sensitive areas.

Jim yelped and jerked under his fingertips. “Hey!”

Oswald laughed, but didn't stop until Jim buried his face in Oswald’s neck and rubbed his stubble over Oswald’s sensitive skin. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and Oswald had been admiring the slightly scruffy look it gave him up until that moment.

“Jim!” Oswald pushed Jim away, trying to stop laughing so he could give Jim the scowl he deserved. He failed miserably though, in the face of Jim’s own cocky smile.

“No more tickling,” Jim said, sitting upright. He straddled Oswald’s waist, smile fading from cocky to fond as he looked down.

“Fine, have it your way,” Oswald agreed. “But no more scratching me with that stubble.”

“Should I shave?” Jim asked, rubbing a hand over his chin.

Oswald had to actually think about that. On one hand, it would mean less scratchiness, but on the other, Jim would have to leave him for a few minutes until it was done. They did have all day together, but could Oswald really spare him for even the smallest amount of time?

“You’re thinking far too hard about this,” Jim said.

Oswald shrugged awkwardly, blushing. It was silly, he knew, to be thinking the way he was. Their relationship had only just begun. They had countless days like this ahead of them.

“I guess you’re not the only one having trouble realising that this is real,” Oswald admitted. “I don’t want you out of my sight for a moment.”

“Ridiculous man,” Jim murmured, bending down to kiss him.

It felt more like an endearment than an insult, but Oswald bristled all the same. “I am not,” he protested.

“Are too,” Jim said against his mouth.

“Am not!” retorted Oswald.

Jim laughed. “Are too, though I may have to amend that to ridiculous child.”

“You’re the one arguing like a five year old,” Oswald said, and he absolutely was not pouting. Not even when Jim took advantage of it to nip at his bottom lip before licking into his mouth.

Oswald moaned, then moaned again when Jim shifted to lie against him. He could feel Jim’s interest in him, pressing into the crease between Oswald’s thigh and torso. His own erection pressed against Jim and it seemed almost odd that just a scant few days ago, he had worried about how Jim might react to such a thing.

Now Oswald knew that when he thrust his hips against Jim, seeking friction, he was rewarded with a groan and Jim pressing back against him. Their kisses grew deeper, each of them wanting more.

“If you want a repeat of last night, we should probably go to the bedroom,” Jim said between kisses.

Oswald whined in protest. He didn't want to stop, or move. He reached for Jim  and pulled him back down for a kiss.

Jim didn't resist, closing the gap between them easily. He pulled back after a moment thought, looking wrecked.

“I want to suck you. Can I, please?”

That should be illegal, asking like that when he looked so debauched already, Oswald thought. How could he even consider saying no?

“God, yes,” Oswald gasped. So much for slow, he thought.

Jim slid down Oswald’s body, pulling his sweatpants down to free Oswald’s cock. Oswald watched as Jim took his cock in hand and sucked the head into his mouth.

“Oh god.” It was obscene, how good that sight was, his cock disappearing into Jim’s warm, wet mouth.

Jim ran his tongue over the head, then bobbed up and down a few times. He ran his tongue over Oswald’s cock like he couldn't get enough of the taste. Oswald thrust helplessly, little movements that he couldn't stop. This was better than any fantasy, and there had been more than a few of those over the past weeks. He'd never had his hand in his pants so often in his life as when he was pretending to date Jim.

“I'm not going to last,” Oswald gasped out as Jim took him deeper.

Jim stopped just long enough to say, “Don't hold back,” and then swallowed him down again.

Oswald groaned, feeling control slip away. His hands gripped the sofa cushions tightly, knuckles turning white. Jim only increased his suction in response and when Oswald finally tipped over the edge, he swallowed every last drop. Oswald shuddered as Jim swiped his tongue over his over-sensitised cock one last time before pulling away.

Jim looked up at Oswald with dark eyes, licking his lips. He looked wrecked, like he'd been the one receiving all the pleasure and Oswald felt thrilled at the thought that he was the reason for that. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Jim crawled back up his body and kissed him deeply. Oswald could taste himself in Jim’s mouth, and he was a bit surprised to find that he liked it.

Jim was still hard, pressing against Oswald through the thin layer of his underwear. Should he offer to return the favour?

Jim seemed to sense some hesitation. “Is everything okay?”

“You're still… do you want me to-?”Asking felt awkward, but Oswald tried not to be shy about it. This was Jim, after all. Jim wouldn't hurt him, or use this against him.

“You don't have to,” Jim said. “Your pace, remember?”

Oswald nodded. “I want to,” he said. He wouldn't shy away from the act itself, even if he had trouble actually saying the words.

“We'll be more comfortable on the bed,” Jim said. “No protests this time,” he added. He kissed Oswald again, then stood up and offered his hand to help Oswald up.

Oswald didn't argue. He wasn't sure how comfortable he would be kneeling on the sofa with his bad leg, but the bed would surely be better. He let Jim lead him back to the bedroom, and crawled over Jim when he lay back on the bed. He stopped above the tent in Jim’s underwear, suddenly nervous. What if he wasn't any good? What if Jim didn't like it?

“Oswald?” Jim asked quietly, sitting up on his elbows. “If you'd rather not-”

“I want to,” Oswald replied stubbornly. “It's just…” He hooked his fingers into the elastic and pulled the fabric down. “You're kind of a big mouthful,” he finished with a cheeky grin to mask his nerves, but he couldn't prevent the blush stealing across his cheeks.

Jim smirked. “Well, if you say so. Just take what you can manage and use your hand for the rest. I'll let you know what feels good and what doesn't, okay?”

Oswald nodded. “Okay.” He had a feeling Jim wasn't fooled by his bluster of confidence, but he appreciated not being called on it.

Tentatively, he lowered his head, holding Jim’s cock by the base and licked the head, tasting salt. Jim groaned, falling back against the pillows. Encouraged, Oswald swirled his tongue over the head again. It wasn't unpleasant, and Jim seemed to like it, judging from the gasps. Oswald dipped his head lower, wanting to taste as much as possible. He tried to mimic what Jim had just done to him as best he could, bobbing his head a little lower, testing the limits of what was comfortable. 

Jim groaned, and Oswald felt a hand petting his hair encouragingly. He pulled back to take a breath and then dipped lower, testing how much of Jim he could take in his mouth without choking.

“Ah, god, Oz…” Jim groaned. His hips bucked uncontrollably, cock hitting the back of Oswald’s throat.

Oswald pulled back, choking and trying to hide it. He didn't want Jim thinking less of him.

“Shit, sorry,” Jim said. He sat up and pulled Oswald to him. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Oswald shook his head, blushing furiously. “It was just unexpected,” he said. “I can keep going.”

Jim kissed him softly. “I'm not going to last much longer anyway,” he said. He guided Oswald’s hand to his still hard cock. “Like this. This is good.”

Oswald wrapped his hand around Jim’s cock, letting him guide his movements.

True to his word, it wasn't long before Jim spilled over their joined hands. He groaned, burying his face in Oswald’s neck as he shuddered through his orgasm.

Oswald stayed still while Jim caught his breath again, waiting until he pulled away. Then he lifted Jim’s hand to his mouth and delicately licked the white fluid, watching Jim’s reaction.

“Oz…” Jim breathed. “God, you're…” He pulled Oswald into a sudden kiss, rolling them both over to press him into the mattress.

Oswald fluttered his hands uncertainly, not sure if Jim would appreciate being smeared in cum or not. Jim didn't have any such issues with getting it on the t-shirt Oswald had borrowed or the bedsheets though, so he gave in after a moment and clutched Jim close to him with a sticky hand.

“We're going to need to shower,” Jim said after a while.

Something in his expression gave Oswald the impression that he wasn't just thinking about getting clean again. “You're insatiable,” he said.

“You're all mine at last, in my bed and wearing my clothes,” Jim said, lowering himself to nip at Oswald’s neck and shoulder. “Of course I'm going to make the most of this.”

Oswald blushed and smiled, a little bemused. He'd never thought he was the kind of person who could inspire this kind of reaction in anyone, let alone anyone who looked like Jim. Oswald wasn't ignorant of the way many people thought about his appearance. A childhood filled with school bullies, and the constant comparisons to a penguin had made that abundantly clear, even before his leg was damaged. So why someone like Jim, with his blue eyes and blond hair and handsome face and perfect body, was this enthusiastic about having Oswald in his bed was baffling.

“What are you thinking about?” Jim asked.

Oswald realised he had been quiet for a little too long. “You,” he replied, turning pink.

“What about me?” Jim asked, smirking.

Oswald narrowed his eyes in a mock glare. “I think you're fishing for compliments.”

Jim laughed softly. “Perhaps. But you looked so serious for a moment.”

Oswald kissed him again, hoping to distract him. “Weren't you going to shower?” he asked.

“I hoped you might join me,” Jim said.

“Maybe another time?” Oswald said, looking away. Jim hadn't really seen the damage to his leg yet, or the other scars on his body. It wasn't pretty, and he wasn't ready to see Jim’s desire fade at the sight of him.

“Okay,” Jim agreed easily.

Oswald glanced at him, surprised Jim had agreed just like that. Jim gave him a fond little smile and kissed his cheek.

“No pressure,” he said. “If you're not comfortable with that, then I won't push. I hope that one day you'll be that comfortable around me, but I can't force you to that level.”

It felt like Oswald’s chest was swelling up with the love he felt for Jim. “I'm sure I'll get there,” he murmured, unable to raise his voice for fear of showing just how affected he was by Jim’s understanding. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jim replied softly. He pressed a gentle kiss to Oswald’s lips, and when Oswald rolled to hide his face against his chest, Jim simply held him close until he was ready to let go.

“Right. Shower for you,” Oswald said once he had pulled away. “And I would appreciate clean clothes if possible.”

“It would make more sense for you to shower first, then put clean clothes on,” Jim pointed out. “I can wait a little longer.”

“If you’re sure,” Oswald said.

“Of course.” Jim rolled away to the other side of the bed where there was a chest of drawers against the wall. He found some more clothes and handed them to Oswald, who accepted them with the hand that wasn’t covered in drying stickiness.

Oswald headed down the hall to the bathroom, and though he trusted Jim not to walk in after promising him some privacy, he locked the door. He quickly shucked off his dirty clothes. He wasn't sure where to leave them so he folded them neatly and put them on the bench for now, next to the clean clothes he had been given.

He turned the shower on and stepped into the stall carefully, wary of slipping. Oswald usually indulged in baths, for the sake of his leg, but he could manage quick showers. He found Jim’s shampoo and shower gel, and a wash cloth hanging on a small shelf.

Oswald paused for a moment before he began washing, looking down at his own pale body. There were scars from beatings, knives and bullets. His leg was a mess, the bones of his knee and ankle, and muscles twisted beneath the skin in an unnatural way. There was no way Jim would still be attracted to him after he saw it, and all the casual and not so casual affectionate touches that Oswald was silently delighting in would stop. Not for the first time, he cursed Fish Mooney for doing this to him.

Sick of the sight of his own body, physical reminders of his own weakness, Oswald decided to wash as quickly as possible so he could dress. He lathered up and rinsed off as quickly as he could manage, then turned off the water and cautiously stepped out of the shower.

There was a towel hanging on a rail, so Oswald used it to dry off quickly so he could dress. Once dry enough, he reached for the clothes Jim had given him.

The sweatpants were much the same, and Oswald wondered how many he owned like that. The t-shirt was green, and when Oswald unfolded it, had a military insignia on the upper left. Oswald ran his thumb over it, and wondered if he was perhaps reading too much into a simple t-shirt, but it felt more personal than the plain one Jim had given him the day before.

It did occur to Oswald that his own clothes would probably be dry by now, but he wasn't ready to put them on yet. It was like doing so would break the intimate atmosphere they had created.

Before going to find Jim, Oswald checked his appearance in the mirror. It was a little steamed up, so he wiped it clear with a dry corner of the towel.

He stopped, staring at his reflection. There were red and purple marks up.his neck, and disappearing under the collar of the t-shirt. He pulled it down to see how many more marks there were. How had Jim marked him so thoroughly without him being aware? He'd felt the sucking pressure and nibbling teeth but he hadn't thought that would leave such livid marks on his skin. Was his shirt going to cover all of these? If not, could he really walk into one of his meetings with a hickey on his neck? What about any of his public appearances?

Oswald scowled and stomped to the bathroom door. “James Gordon, what have you done to my neck?” he shouted, flinging the door open.

Jim appeared from the direction of the living room. “Uh.” He tried his best wide-eyed innocent look, but it faltered in the face of Oswald’s annoyed glare and morphed into a more contrite expression. “I'm sorry. I didn't know how bad it was going to look until after and…” He trailed off, watching Oswald with worried blue eyes.

Oswald tried to hold on to his irritation, but Jim’s expression reminded him of a dog that had been caught in the act of doing something naughty. He managed a few seconds, then gave in. “Well, don't do it again when I have work the next day.” He sighed. “I can probably cover it with makeup if I need to,” he said.

Jim still seemed tense, so Oswald pulled him in for a chaste peck on the lips. “You are forgiven, but don't mark my neck any more today.”

Jim relaxed again, enough to reply suggestively, “What about other places?”

Oswald turned red. “Insatiable!” he exclaimed. “Go shower!” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Jim replied, stepping past Oswald. He pressed a quick kiss to Oswald’s temple and headed to the bathroom.

Oswald was glad for that, because his dick gave a very interested twitch at being called ‘sir’ in that tone of voice. That was something to explore later, perhaps.

While Jim was in the shower, Oswald decided to call Edward back before he thought he was forgotten. His phone was still in the living room, so he went back to get it.

Edward answered, sounding amused. “You're free to talk now?” he asked.

“Jim is showering, so I have a few minutes,” Oswald replied. He stood by the window, watching the street below.

“I had a look at your schedules, but I'm afraid there's no avoiding an early start on Monday,” Edward said. “You have a meeting with the urban development committee at nine thirty, and they won't be put off, and another meeting with  _ other _ business associates at eleven.” The way he stressed the ‘’other’ was all Oswald needed to know that these were associates of the King of Gotham, not the mayor. “On that note, I’ve heard that Mr Santini has been expressing some dissatisfaction of late.”

“Expressing to whom?” Oswald asked, scowling.

“His lackeys, as I understand it, who have whispered to others and so on. They are worried there will be trouble,” Edward said.

“Santini won't cause trouble if he's smart. Find out what he wants. I can at least consider it, if he isn't unreasonable,” Oswald said dismissively. Santini had been one of Maroni’s men but he'd switched allegiances easily enough when Oswald had risen to claim the title of King of Gotham. Perhaps too easily. He knew things that could potentially be used against Oswald, but the opposite was also true.

But Jim’s apartment was not the place to discuss mob business, even if Jim was in the shower and couldn't overhear.

“Very well. But we do still need to know when to expect you home, Oswald,” Edward said.

“Later. I'll call for Gabe to pick me up when I'm ready,” Oswald said. “I'll be home in time to discuss tomorrow's business.”

“Good. And Oswald?” Ed replied. “I'm glad that you and Jim have sorted out your problems together.”

“Me too,” Oswald said, thinking back over the morning's activities with a smile.

“You know, I must confess that when you first told me you and he were together, I had thought that perhaps you were lying,” Edward said suddenly.

Oswald nearly dropped his phone. “What?”

“I don't mean to cause offence,” Edward said hurriedly. “Only, you had never gone on a date or shown interest in dating him.”

“I was interested,” Oswald huffed. “But we're busy people. We didn't have much time to spend together.”

“Isabella believed you, though, and persuaded me to to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Edward said. “Persuaded me to arrange your schedules to give you time to date as well.”

“Oh. Well.” Oswald was reluctant to say anything good about Isabella, but perhaps she wasn't that bad after all.

“And I'm glad that Jim freed up enough of his time to see you as well,” said Edward. “You've been much happier in recent weeks, at least until… well, I don't understand what went wrong between you.”

“Just a simple misunderstanding,” Oswald said smoothly. “There were some things we hadn't discussed, and we… well, I didn't realise just how deeply he felt and he didn't know the extent of my feelings either. I'd previously told him of my feelings for you - which have been reassessed,” he added hurriedly. “You're a good friend, but nothing more.”

“It's fine, Oswald. It was a shock, but our friendship survives,” Edward said reassuringly.

“Yes, and I will forever be grateful that I didn't ruin everything. Jim thought I still held a romantic attachment to you, rather than platonic, and he held his feelings back,” Oswald explained. “But we have cleared the air now, and… well, he's not holding back any more.” Oswald blushed deeply, one hand going to the marks on his neck.

“No details, please. But Isabella will be glad to know you've worked things out.”

“That's… nice,” Oswald managed. He still wasn't fond of Isabella, but he tried to accept her for the sake of his friendship with Ed.

They said their goodbyes after that and hung up. Oswald had just hung up when damp arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Everything alright with Edward?” asked Jim.

“He said he didn't believe me the first time I told him we were together,” Oswald said, scowling.

“You mean when you lied to him?” Jim replied, amused.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” Oswald said. “What's so hard to believe about me dating you?”

“The fact where we hadn't actually been on any dates at that point?” Jim suggested, entirely too reasonably. He nuzzled Oswald’s hair.

“I wonder what convinced him,” Oswald said.

“Ask him later,” Jim said. “I have other things I would rather be doing right now.”

“Insatiable,” Oswald sighed, turning around in Jim’s embrace. He saw that Jim had dressed at last, though only in loose fitting shorts and a t-shirt, though it wouldn't be hard to get him out of his clothes later if they were so inclined.

“Complaining?” Jim asked, even as he closed the gap between them to press soft kisses to Oswald’s lips. “I'm not overwhelming you, am I?”

“No,” Oswald said. “Enjoying it, actually. No one ever wanted this with me before.”

“They're blind, or idiots,” Jim said. “But I'm glad not to have to share you or fight off others for your attention.”

“You'd have all of my attention anyway,” Oswald muttered against Jim’s chest, turning red.

“So, do we keep making out in front of the window or shall we move to the sofa?” Jim asked.

“Sofa,” Oswald said decisively, then yelped when Jim suddenly picked him up. His legs instinctively wrapped around Jim’s waist. “Jim!”

Jim carried him the short distance to the sofa and sat down, keeping Oswald in his lap. “You did say we should continue on the sofa.”

“I didn't know you meant to carry me!” Oswald said, flustered. Jim had picked him up so easily, and while he usually hated being manhandled, he hadn't felt the usual surge of anger. In fact, he had enjoyed it, felt safe, even. “At least give me a warning next time.”

“Okay,” Jim agreed. “You're not mad, are you?”

Oswald shook his head. “Just don't make a habit of it.”

“I won't. It was kind of a spontaneous thing,” Jim admitted. “Can I kiss you now or am I in trouble still?”

Oswald responded by kissing him softly. Jim let him control the kiss, seemingly happy just to sit with Oswald on his lap. Even when Oswald felt Jim’s cock stir between them, Jim did nothing to steer things in a more sexual direction.

They didn't part until Oswald’s stomach rumbled. Oswald turned red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jim laughed softly. “Don't be. I guess it's lunch time.” He checked his watch. “Or later. It's past two o’clock.”

They'd risen late, and had a late breakfast, but they hadn't finished it before getting distracted. No wonder Oswald was hungry. He just hadn't noticed it until now.

“I’ll make sandwiches,” Jim offered. “You stay here, find something to watch on TV maybe, and I'll be right back.”

Oswald shifted off his lap and let him up. He accepted the remote and sat flicking through channels while Jim was busy in the kitchen. There wasn't anything that caught his attention, but that didn't matter. Jim soon came back with a tray of tuna sandwiches and two steaming cups, coffee for himself and tea for Oswald.

“My favourite tea and my favourite sandwiches,” Oswald said. “You've been hoping I'd come over, haven't you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Jim said, blushing despite the nonchalant tone. He sat beside Oswald, eyes fixed on the television.

Oswald settled against him with a sandwich, unable to keep the silly little smile off his face. How could he have missed how much Jim loved him? It seemed so obvious now.

The television blared advertisements into the comfortable silence between them while they ate. It felt so domestic, at once strange and comfortable to Oswald. He felt no need for the formal suits that were his armour against the world, even in his own home. There was no need to assert himself as mayor or as king of Gotham’s underworld. Here and now, there were no barriers to put up. There was just company to enjoy.

The sandwiches soon disappeared, washed down with tea, and then Jim was pressing Oswald back into the sofa with tuna-flavoured kisses.

“Fish breath,” Oswald giggled between kisses.

“I could say the same to you,” Jim retorted. It didn't put him off, though. He let Oswald cling to his shoulders as they kissed.

Jim didn't protest when Oswald’s hands started roaming either, or when their kisses turned from simple pleasure at being able to do so freely to something more amorous. In fact, Jim encouraged it, grinding his hips down against Oswald’s.

“We only have a few hours left together,” Jim said between kisses. “And I'd really like to take you back to bed for at least some of that time.”

“Absolutely,” Oswald agreed. “We should move before I get too comfortable then.”

Jim was up in a flash, tugging Oswald to his feet.

“Carry me,” Oswald demanded imperiously. He worried that perhaps his awkward gait would put Jim off before they got to the bedroom. His limp could hardly be called alluring.

“Carry you?” Jim grinned. “Didn’t you complain last time?”

“That was when it was a surprise. Now I’m ordering you,” Oswald said, smirking. “You can’t disobey an order from your mayor.”

“I’m pretty sure I could,” Jim said, even as he bent to scoop Oswald up bridal-style. “But not in this case.”

Hey made it to the bedroom in what seemed like record time - but it wasn’t as though the apartment was particularly big anyway. Oswald kept his head tucked in as Jim carried him through the doorway.

“Now you can put me down,” Oswald cried out as he was dropped on the bed. He scowled at Jim, who laughed.

“I like making you squeal,” Jim said.

“I do not squeal!” Oswald protested, trying to sit up.

Jim pushed Oswald down on the bed and climbed on top to kiss him eagerly.

Oswald gasped, any attempts at anger gone as he tilted his head for better access. Jim kissed a trail along his jaw and down his neck.

“No more marks,” Oswald warned, though his tone was more breathy than he intended.

“Okay,” Jim agreed between kisses. His hands skimmed the edge of Oswald’s t-shirt, sliding underneath.

Oswald tugged at Jim’s t-shirt until Jim pulled away to take it off and toss it in the corner.

“Can I…?” Jim pulled at the hem of Oswald’s t-shirt.

Oswald hesitated. He hadn't been thinking of anything but how good Jim made him feel, but now the time came to take his clothes off, he was filled with self-consciousness again. It was one thing to be naked with Jim in the dark, but in the light of day, it felt entirely different.

“You don't have to,” Jim said quietly.  

Oswald looked up from where Jim held the t-shirt to study his expression. There was no frustration at Oswald’s hesitance, no disappointment, just patience and love. The thought of losing that love, that desire, stung. But Oswald would not be able to avoid Jim seeing him naked forever, and perhaps it would be better to lose him now instead of later.

Oswald nodded, shifting to allow Jim to strip the t-shirt off him. He closed his eyes against Jim’s reaction. If he was disappointed in any way, Oswald didn't want to see it.

He heard Jim inhale quietly, then felt gentle kisses pressed against his skin. Warm hands ran over his chest, a thumb brushing over a nipple. A jolt of pleasure rippled through Oswald. He opened his eyes to see Jim smiling at him. There was no loss of desire there, despite their physical differences. Jim was in better shape than Oswald, who was getting a little too soft around the middle after months of Olga’s cooking. He'd lost weight in Arkham, and he'd gained it all back and then some now. Not like Jim, who had hard muscle under smooth skin.

“Just as lovely as last night,” Jim said.

Oswald looked away, flushing red. His mouth turned down in an unhappy frown. “I'm not-”

“You are,” Jim said insistently, cutting him off. He gently turned Oswald’s head to look him in the eye. “I mean it.”

Oswald still had his doubts, but Jim looked sincere. Jim hadn't seen the worst of it yet, though.

He pulled Jim up, silently asking for a kiss. Jim responded easily, with just as much love as Oswald had become accustomed to, even if he hadn't known it was love before. That feeling gave Oswald the courage to reach for the waistband of his borrowed sweatpants and begin pushing them down. It was now or never.

Jim realised what he was doing and rolled off him. “You're sure?” he asked. “If I'm putting too much pressure on you…”

“You'd see eventually, right?” Oswald said. “Maybe sooner is better than later.” He lifted his hips and pushed the sweatpants further down. There was a moment of hesitation when he sat up to move them down past his knees, but there was no impatience from Jim, no frustration that he was taking too long, just a silently reassuring hand on his shoulder.  

Then the sweatpants were gone, tossed over the side of the bed, leaving Oswald naked in all his… well, glory felt like the wrong word.

He forced himself to look at Jim, to watch his reaction to his hideous, damaged leg. If he was repulsed by it, then so be it. Oswald would pick up the tattered remains of his dignity, call Gabe and go home.

But there was no disgust. No revulsion. Just a gentle touch on his thigh, just above his ruined knee.

“The only thing about this that horrifies me,” Jim said. “Is that someone did this to you.”

“Well, thankfully she's not a problem any more,” Oswald muttered.

Jim’s hand trailed down Oswald’s leg, skimming over the unnatural bumps where the bone was twisted and the scars where his flesh had split and healed badly.

“I hate that this was done to you, that it hurts you,” Jim said quietly. “But it's part of you, and I love you.”

He moved to kiss Oswald again, but when he brought his leg over to slide it between Oswald’s, Oswald brought his hand up to halt him.

Jim drew back, confused and worried.

“You're overdressed,” Oswald said, giving Jim’s shorts a pointed look. There was no way he was going to be the only one fully naked.

Jim dropped his head in relief, and shimmied out of them as quickly as he could.

“Better?”

“Better,” Oswald agreed.

Jim reached for Oswald again and this time, Oswald had no complaints. He let Jim press him back against the mattress with hungry kisses. His erection had flagged when his sweatpants came off, too nervous of Jim’s reaction, but now it returned. He rolled his hips upwards against Jim, seeking friction.

Jim gasped, groaned and pressed down against him. They moved together, both chasing their own pleasure. Oswald thought maybe he could come just from this, but then Jim pulled away, panting hard.

Oswald whined at the loss of contact. His disappointment must have shown, because Jim smirked at him. Then Jim was kissing and licking a trail down his body, pausing only to suck at Oswald’s nipples until he was only capable of incoherent pleading, though what he was pleading for, he couldn't have said. Each swipe of Jim’s tongue sent lightning bolts of pleasure through Oswald. He writhed uncontrollably under Jim’s attention.

“Jim, Jim, Jim, please, I can't-oh god, Jim, please.”

Jim moved down, giving the head of Oswald’s cock a sucking kiss. Oswald whimpered, giving a little thrust of his hips in a quiet plea for more. Jim ignored it, and moved down further, kissing the base of Oswald’s cock. He gripped Oswald’s thighs, spreading them a little further, pushing his legs up.

“Is this comfortable?” he asked.

Oswald nodded, would have said yes to anything even if he wasn’t.

Jim smirked, and ducked his head back down. Oswald only had a brief moment to wonder what he was doing, and then Jim’s warm, wet tongue licked a stripe over his entrance.

“Fuck!” Oswald usually didn't swear, his mother had never liked it, but the expletive burst forth before he had any chance of restraining himself, hips jerking.

Jim laughed softly between his legs. “Good?”

“Good,” Oswald panted, staring at Jim.with wide eyes.

Jim bent head head and repeated his actions. Oswald fell back against the bed with a groan. He couldn't believe Jim would do this, had never even thought about anything like this before, but it felt so unbelievably good. He felt Jim’s tongue circle his hole, then gently push in.

“Oh my god, Jim, please, I can't take much more!”

Oswald’s legs were shaking, and he clenched the bedsheets in a white-knuckled grip. He bit his lip to try to focus on something other than the pleasure, to try to feel like he wasn't about to fall apart under Jim’s ministrations.

Jim took pity on Oswald, and after one last wet lick, sat up.

Oswald reached for him, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss. He didn't care if it was filthy, he needed the physical contact. 

“Please, Jim, need you,” Oswald gasped. He shifted his hips up into Jim, trying to indicate what he wanted.

Jim gave him one last, lingering kiss and then leaned over the side of the bed to grab the lubricant from the nightstand. He wasted no more time spreading some over his fingers.

Feeling Jim’s fingers breach him was a little strange still, but after the night before, Oswald knew what to expect. Though he was still wet with Jim’s saliva, Jim took the time to prepare him carefully. Oswald pushed back onto Jim’s fingers desperately seeking more pleasure. 

“Please, Jim, I need more!”

Jim’s response was to add another finger, but that still wasn't enough, wasn't what Oswald wanted. Not that that stopped him from letting out a frustrated groan when Jim withdrew his fingers, even when he could see Jim rolling on a condom and slicking up his own cock.

“You want this?” Jim said, smiling lazily.

“Yes, damn it!” Oswald snarled. “Now!”

Jim leaned over him, lining up his cock with Oswald’s entrance. He didn't push in, though, to Oswald’s endless frustration.

“Say it,” Jim said, looking into Oswald’s eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

Oswald wanted to strangle him. He gripped Jim’s neck, pulling him down so there were scant millimetres between them. “Fuck me, James Gordon. Now.” He cried out as Jim slid inside him in one smooth motion. 

Jim stilled once he was fully seated inside Oswald, which Oswald was grateful for. Having Jim’s cock inside him was intense, leaving him feeling full. It wasn't painful, thanks to the thorough preparation, but he still needed a moment to adjust. 

“You okay?” Jim asked, filling Oswald with warmth. Even in a passionate embrace, he still showed kindness and concern.

“I'm fine. You can move now,” Oswald said. He twined his arms around Jim’s neck, and wrapped his legs around Jim’s waist. He lifted his hips encouragingly. 

Jim began slowly, but with Oswald’s gasped encouragement, thrust faster, fucking into Oswald with more force. 

Oswald threw his head back against the pillows, riding out the pleasure. His neglected cock bounced against his stomach, smearing precome over his skin. He reached for it, knowing it wouldn’t take much for him to reach his peak, but found his hand captured and held in place beside his head. 

“Not yet,” Jim said. There was an intense look in his eyes and Oswald was awed on some level to be the subject of such attention.

Then Jim did something, altered his angle, and Oswald cried out at the exquisite pleasure.

“So beautiful… Love you like this,” Jim murmured above him.

Oswald couldn’t gather the words to respond. Each thrust against his prostate sent all his wits scattering. Lost to pleasure, entirely at Jim’s mercy, he could do nothing but cry out wordlessly. 

Jim seemed similarly affected, skin flushed red and shining with sweat. He groaned when he wasn’t muttering filth and fantasies into Oswald’s ears. When he finally reached for Oswald’s cock, Oswald wasn’t sure he even needed the additional help. Jim had scarcely wrapped his hand around the rigid flesh than Oswald was crying out, bucking helplessly as his orgasm crashed over him. 

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck…” Jim held Oswald as he shuddered through his own orgasm. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, then stilled altogether, collapsing atop Oswald. Neither of them had the energy to care about the sticky mess being smeared all over them just then.

There was silence broken only by their heavy breathing. Oswald realised he was clinging to Jim, digging his fingers into his shoulder hard enough to bruise, and slowly released his grip. Then came the awareness that his legs were cramping up and he carefully straightened them out. 

“You should move,” he muttered to Jim. “Or we’re going to be stuck together.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jim replied, laughing softly.

“Me neither, but it will be incredibly undignified if I show up to tomorrow morning’s meeting with you attached to my chest,” Oswald said. “Also, it’s a little hard to breath with you crushing my chest like this.” 

“Should have led with that,” Jim said, rolling off him.

“I liked it,” Oswald admitted. Not the part where it was hard to breathe, but the warmth and solidness of Jim surrounding him.

Jim didn't question it, though. He turned to give Oswald a soft kiss, barely more than a brush of their lips, and then sat up. “I'll be back in a moment.”

Oswald nodded, and watched him go. He shifted to make himself more comfortable. Now that there was nothing to do but lie and wait for Jim to return, he was starting to feel a little cold, but he couldn't crawl under the bedcovers or get dressed yet.

Jim returned with a wet cloth and cleaned him up with the same care and attention he had displayed the night before.

“I wasn't too rough, was I?” Jim asked.

“It was wonderful,” Oswald replied. “But I am getting cold now.”

Jim settled on the bed beside Oswald, and pulled into his lap. “I'm sure I could help with that.”

Oswald stared incredulously. “Absolutely insatiable!” he said, but he didn't pull away. Jim was warm, after all. 

Jim laughed. “Even I need a bit more recovery time,” he said. “I meant just cuddling.”

Oswald blushed. “Cuddling is fine.” He snuggled closer to demonstrate his point. 

They didn't move, except to reach for a blanket, until the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. They shared soft kisses and dozed together until Oswald finally pulled away.

“I should go, or else Ed will come to drag me away himself,” he said regretfully.

“I'll fetch your clothes,” Jim said. 

He slid out of bed, and Oswald immediately wiggled into the warm spot he left behind. Oswald wasn't in any real hurry to get out of bed, but he had promised Ed that he would be home in time to talk with him.

Jim brought Oswald’s phone and his cane, as well as his clothes with his return. His clothes were creased, but dry after the soaking they'd received in the rain the night before. Oswald thought he must have looked like a drowned rat when he had shown up at the door, and while a part of him had rebelled at the thought of Jim seeing him in a less than pristine state, he had also considered the possibility that looking a mess might inspire pity, and an invitation inside.

Oswald called Gabe before he dressed, then reluctantly began sorting through his clothes to put them on.

He became aware that Jim was watching him as he pulled his trousers on. He'd been managing long enough with his damaged leg to know that he must look awkward while dressing, but for now he didn't feel quite so self conscious as usual.

“See something you like?” he asked, buttoning his trousers.

“I see someone I love,” Jim replied, grinning dopily. He was stretched out over the bed on his stomach, still as naked as the day he was born.

Oswald blushed bright red. “Are you not cold?” he asked, trying to distract Jim from how flustered he was. 

“It doesn't bother me,” Jim said, shrugging. “But if you want me to get dressed, I will.”

Oswald gave him a considering look, and if that look lingered on Jim’s ass, well, they were lovers now and Jim shouldn’t be lounging about nude if he didn’t like it. “Just don't get sick,” Oswald said after a moment.

He finished dressing, and then Jim finally did put some clothes on, redressing in the same t-shirt and shorts as before while they waited for Gabe to arrive in the living room. 

The TV was still on, playing an old movie to an empty room. Jim reached for the remote to change the channel, but Oswald pulled him down onto the sofa beside him. If he only had a limited time left with Jim today, then Jim was absolutely not spending it channel surfing. He turned Jim’s face to his and pressed kissed to Jim’s slightly parted lips. 

Jim didn't have any complaints. At least, none he got the chance to voice. The remote fell to the floor, forgotten, as Jim’s hands came up to cup Oswald’s face while they kissed. 

“You know, I don't think I've done this much making out on the sofa with anyone for years,” Jim murmured between kisses. 

“Well, I've never done it at all,” Oswald replied. 

“Better late than never, and I'm more than happy to help you catch up on years worth of make out sessions,” Jim said.

Oswald giggled against Jim’s mouth.

It seemed a depressingly short time before Oswald’s phone rang again.

“I'm outside, boss,” Gabe said.

“Thank you, Gabe. I'll be out in a few minutes,” Oswald replied. He hung up the phone and turned to Jim. “Time to part, my dear,” he said.

Jim stood to walk him to the door. “Call me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Oswald agreed. He pushed Jim against the wall by the door. “One last thing,” he murmured softly, sliding his good leg between Jim’s. He latched on to Jim’s neck with his mouth and sucked at the smooth skin.

Jim groaned, a guttural, harsh sound, and clung to Oswald’s arms helplessly. He head fell back against the wall, giving Oswald better access.

Oswald released him after a long moment. He gave an inward smirk of satisfaction at the purpling mark he'd left on Jim’s neck, too high to be covered by the shirts he wore to work. 

“I'll call you,” he said. He pecked Jim on the lips. “Love you.”

And then he was gone, leaving Jim standing against the wall with a dazed expression on his face.

-

Oswald was still in such good spirits the next morning, that the badly hidden smiles and whispers that followed him to his office didn't bother him as much as they might have. Still, he was a little concerned about what it could all mean.

He'd heard plenty of comments from Ed and some of the less discreet staff about how he'd looked like he had had a good time with Jim, due to the love bites on his neck, the untidy hair, the messy clothes he had been wearing the day before. But on Monday, he'd worn fresh clothes and covered up the lovebites with make up so he knew that couldn't be what was attracting to attention.

Then he reached his office and everything suddenly became clear. 

There was a large bouquet of red roses in the middle of his desk. In the middle, a card holder held a large, heart-shaped card.

Oswald brushed his fingertips over the velvety petals, unable to keep the fond smile from spreading across his face. 

‘ _ Obvious enough for you? _ ’ read the card in Jim’s neat handwriting.

Beside the flowers was a little gift bag with a note in another hand. 

‘ _ To celebrate you two getting your shit together. Jim will understand. - Selina & Ivy _ ’

Oswald had a look in the bag, then pulled out his phone. Jim answered on the first ring, as though he had been waiting for Oswald to call. 

“You got the flowers?” he asked. Oswald could hear the smile in his voice.

“They're lovely,” Oswald said. “But I was hoping you'd tell me why Selina and Ivy left me a pot of edible glitter as well?”

**Author's Note:**

> Like Jim, the only plant I have ever managed to grow was a mimosa. It lived on my windowsill as a child until a classmate who lived nearby said she watched me sometimes touching the leaves. Thoroughly freaked out, I didn't go near the window for months and it died. Click [here](https://youtu.be/XTi6eDeKkQI) to watch the leaves close!
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr if you like: [Emmageddon](http://emmageddon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
